Conflict of Self
by Mike Brownbill
Summary: Draco Contemplates life, what is the point, where is it going?
1. Contemplation

A/N: This is my first fic so if you flame me bad enough I might crawl into a dark corner and hide, doomed never to write again. Or, if the worst comes to the worst, I may actually write another chapter, so be careful.  
Disclaimer: I guess, considering I am not JK Rowling, that I don't own the world of Harry Potter, any characters or situations depicted in the books. I do however probably own my own story. Probably.  
  
  
Conflict of Self  
Chapter 1-Contemplation  
  
  
Life. What was it worth? Draco honestly couldn't answer. Fighting away the tears, he stared at the roof of his bed, comforted only by the fact that it would all, someday, end. He was sick of the pressure, sick of the lies, sick of the Malfoy legacy. All his father ever talked about was what it meant to be a Malfoy. Respect this, learn to hate that, destroy the other. He couldn't take it. Requirements, standards, promises.  
Work. What was the point? Again, the answer eluding him, he bit his lip in an attempt to avoid screaming out in his frustration. This was a lost battle. All that anyone wanted for him was success. Didn't they think he had thoughts, emotions or ideals of his own? All anyone worried about was results. Take Snape. All he ever said was asphodel this, boomslang skin that and his various condescending observations about the work of the Sytherins and, more often than not, the Gryffindors who they shared classes with.  
School, grades, success.   
Love. Did it even exist? This was tiring. Draco couldn't think anymore. Drifting off to sleep, he let his subconscious mull over the situation. He needed support. Not to say that he wasn't mentally stable. Not even that he was emotionally frail. It wasn't, in fact, as he had earlier thought, a requirement. Requirements were things that his father enforced, not things that he wanted. And Draco did want. Not just wanted, he lusted. After what, he did not know, but he felt the tugging at his heart. The cold-hearted slytherin, death warmed up, spoilt brat Malfoy, had emotions. Strong emotions.  
"Don't be stupid Draco," he thought to himself "Love is the undoing of men. Love is the bane of the powerful. Love does not exist," That was what Lucius, his all-knowing, all-powerful father, had told him.  
Do you really believe him? Him for crying out loud! He doesn't even call you by name, Draco. Draco is your name. Boy, son, ingrate? No. Draco. He doesn't deserve your respect.  
"No!" he yelled, suddenly jolted from the world of unconscious bliss, breaking out in a cold sweat. He couldn't let himself think that. Lucius was his father. Draco was his only begotten son.  
Father? Does he deserve that title? That brat that pretended to raise you from birth. Look at the way he's treated you and Narcissa.  
"Shut Up!"   
Draco was losing the battle with his mind. He wanted to just forget, to stop playing host to this insanity. That wasn't going to happen. His subconscious kept hammering away at him, throwing everything it had at him.  
What has he ever done for you? He'd sell you to Voldemort if he had to.   
"No!"   
I suppose your right on that one. No, He wouldn't sell you to Voldemort. He'd give you. Your adoring, loving "father" would feed you to Voldemort given half an ounce of chance.   
By this time, most of the Dormitory had been woken by the shouting. Drawing the curtains violently, he snarled at those around him. What were they looking at?   
A shell of a man Draco. And you know whose fault that is don't you?   
"I've had enough," he muttered in frustration, "I don't need this!"   
I know you don't. You know you don't. I understand you Draco.   
Draco. How good it was to hear his name. The voice, soothing, comforting, almost, he dared to contemplate, loving.   
"Who are you?"   
The voice in his head just laughed. One part of him wanted out of this argument, the other part was promoting it.   
I thought you'd know. I thought you'd understand. I am you. You are me. We are one.   
We? Draco was loving it. Someone felt for him. Even if it was himself, it was a start. A small step in the right direction, but a step, nonetheless. He was stuck at a crossing of roads. Dare he immerse himself in the self-loving Malfoy that was his daily façade? Or should he turn and run, like the broken little Draco that inhabited this shell? He was lost. The quest to find himself was going nowhere. Poor boy. If he didn't understand his own feelings then it would be one up-hill struggle to force them upon someone else. 


	2. Reflections

Legal Jargon/ I own none of the characters but am keeping hold of the plot, considering I own it   
/Legal Jargon  
Conflict of Self  
Chapter 2-Reflections  
When he finally awoke the next morning, after the previous night's tension, Draco found the   
Slytherin common room to be pleasantly quiet. Or not. Pleasant was not an entirely truthful   
description. The mood was not dissimilar from the early hours of the day, in that it was seemingly   
desolate, giving him time alone with his thoughts.  
Time alone with his thoughts. This was the last thing that Draco needed. Time alone with his   
tormentor. He couldn't take another minute of it. Perhaps it would be for the best if he just forgot   
everything and went down to breakfast. Maybe filling the proverbial pit of his gut would move his   
attentions to other, more worthy matters.  
As he made his way down to the main hall, he let his mind slip, allowing rogue thoughts to   
resume play in these horrendous mind games. His guard was down, the predator leapt, his mind   
was engulfed.  
Hungry Draco?  
"Not you again," he mutter, intentionally letting his frustration show "Yes, I am hungry. What kind   
of a question is that and more to the point, what is it to you anyway?" He scowled in annoyance at   
the trivial questions.  
-What is it that you hunger for? Answer me that. Answer me that one trivial question- came the   
reply, reflecting on Draco's response.  
"Food, you dolt," he thought to himself, forgetting the omni-present eye of the one with whom he   
was conversing "I hunger after food. That's why I'm going to breakfast you nitwit!"  
-Have some respect for me; I am still in the room you know! Dear, dear Draco, what on earth   
would Lucius think?-  
The guilt card was place on the table, leaving Draco with only one viable reply, one that he   
foolishly took.  
"Oh, terribly sorry to hear it," he snapped "I thought that father was not worthy of my respect"  
Check mate. Draco was already nursing the wounds from that mistake. His own dual   
consciousness had driven him into a dark, tight corner.  
-I'm glad that you have come round to my way of thinking- the voice responded, evidently pleased   
with itself. If the voice had a visible face, it would be easy to imagine its visage at this moment - a   
twinkle in the eye, a smirk on the face, a look that Draco had all too often worn himself.   
So what is it that you hunger for Draco?  
Dare he? Dare he defy centuries of legacy? Dare he expose himself as nothing but an uncertain   
fraud?   
"Love. Peace of Mind. A bit of sanity." His mind was made up for him, the words speaking   
themselves, his lips moving effortlessly. The healing had begun.  
-Good Draco. Very good. Do you not see how easy it is? How is it that you could not see this from   
an early age? Emotion makes a person. Lack of it can break a person. You, my dear boy, were   
on the brink. Now that you have come in from the cold, I sense that the path will level out. The   
struggle is yet to end, but end, it will.-  
Emotion? An easier journey? Draco was overwhelmed. His consciousness was saturated with   
what his father would have deemed fallacies, human propaganda for the feeble of mind. The   
feeling warmed him inside but the warmth was hardly enough to burn a smile onto the cold, firm   
Malfoy lips. The healing had begun, yes, but the road before him was long and arduous.   
"I…" Draco stammered, "I think I understand"  
-Good Draco. Good.-  
The sound of his name being spoken sent Draco into a new level. A deeper level. A darker level.   
How could life have been like that? How could everything been as it was before? How could the   
excruciating torture that was life have existed when something this good had always been there?   
Draco cursed his father for allowing it to happen. He cursed himself for allowing it to lie so   
dormant. He cursed his mother for ever giving birth to his accursed self.  
-Admittance is the first step on the road to recovery- the voice stated, a smile evident on its   
imaginary face –now how about going and getting that breakfast you wanted?-  
Draco rushed into the hall, rejuvenated by the thought of all that had gone on. Then…  
"Malfoy." Potter had approached him. He had seen the smile. Hull breach. All systems down.  
"Go to hell Potter"  
A/N: Thanks to citrus scented and quicksilver fallen for those lovely reviews and sorry for selling   
out the whole one track mind thing by letting Harry speak. That's probably the last he'll say for a   
while (thankfully) 


	3. Break free

Conflict of Self  
Chapter 3-Break Free  
After breakfast, Draco made his way up to Slytherin common room, satisfied that physical hunger   
would not disturb him for at least another couple of hours. With that out of his mind, he could   
continue steadily along the road towards resolving his personal issues. With it being a Saturday,   
he didn't have much to occupy him as regarded lessons, so Draco was given a lot of time to   
himself to think things over.  
He was by now getting to feel a little more comfortable with the new ideas that had been   
presented to him but was not altogether happy. After all, one can't be immediately expected to   
adjust to the temperature of the new waters into which they have plunged can they? There were   
still many questions circulating in Draco's mind, questions which he was intending on answering,   
in full, sooner rather than later. He wanted to know why he was changing, what was causing it,   
how he could control it.  
As he set on his soft springy bed in the cold surroundings of the slytherin dorms, he let himself   
once again converse with his hidden mentor. Oblivious to the intense bustle out in the common   
room, the dungeons became a haven of thought.  
-Feeling better now Draco?-  
"A bit, as if you care"  
Draco hadn't let down his charade. He was still so deeply in touch with the outside shell of hatred   
and pomposity that not even meditation of his innermost thoughts appeared to be a suitable   
situation in which to drop it.  
-Let go Draco. Break free of the shell-  
Draco knew full well that that was what he had to do. This made him angry. Legitimately angry,   
but angry still. This was perhaps better than the faked anger he was previously experiencing, he   
supposed.  
-Draco, let go-  
He winced. He knew he wanted to show emotion, but he still had his ego to maintain. He couldn't   
possibly let himself out in front of all of…no one. There was no one there. He did it. Slowly the   
smile crept across his face. He succumbed willingly to the urge to emote.  
-Good. No ones here. It's ok-  
Draco Malfoy had smiled. The cold-hearted slytherin had allowed his lips to be consumed by   
feelings, positive feelings, happy feelings. The curved form of pink quickly recoiled as a non-  
descript slytherin boy entered the dorm, leaving Draco in an unsafe situation. He was pretty sure   
he hadn't been seen. He hoped he hadn't been seen. He hadn't been seen. Had he?  
-No Draco. No. You should have. You should have broken yourself in. It's pointless having a   
smile if you aren't going to let yourself use it you know-  
Draco wholeheartedly agreed, but wasn't about to strike up conversation with the voice with   
another person in the room. He wasn't exactly fond of the idea of being portrayed as a   
schizophrenic by anyone, let alone a member of slytherin house.  
-You're going to have to someday you know. You can't live a lie for ever-  
Confident that he could whisper quietly enough to be heard he snapped back.  
"I've as good as done that for my whole life, why should I stop now"  
The smile was wiped away; the scowl took fresh control of its long-term victim. Draco was angry   
with the voice, with himself. He didn't like the demands being put on him. He had, of course, had   
demands on him for all of his life so far, but these demands where contrary and, by the standards   
drilled into him by Lucius, wrong. Anything that went against his father was so infuriatingly…good.   
-Break free-  
The slytherin turned and faced Draco, about to leave the room. Draco let the smile run riot over   
his face. He laughed as the boy turned in shock and made haste out of the dormitory.  
-Break free Draco. Be free Draco-  
  
A/N: A little short, sorry, I was just desperate to update. I'm sorry that it's taken this long but I've   
been ill all week :( The reviews cheered me up though :) Thanks to those who have reviewed and   
keep reviewing. Also please check out the other story that I'm currently working on (you can find it   
in my profile) 


	4. Aftershock

Conflict of Self  
Chapter4-Aftershock  
The boy just stood there and stared. Draco nailed himself firmly to the bed and just smiled back.   
Frozen in the moment he was unaware that a further Slytherin had entered the room. This time a   
non-descript girl. She glared at Draco and, swiftly linking her arm with the boy's, strutted out of   
the room.  
Draco was too happy with the results to have noticed the momentary invasion of privacy from the   
Slytherin girl. He had just been able to show emotion at the same time as eliciting a negative   
reaction from someone in expression of annoyance. This was too good. Too good.  
-Draco, that really was not the desired effect-  
"Oh really, and what was then?- He retorted  
-Showing emotion Draco. Positive emotion. If you want to show the world that you can be a   
genuine person then it would be worth your while toning down the whole "I hate everyone" aura a   
little. Remember, you wanted to stop living this lie-  
"No one said anything about having to be nice to people" said Draco haughtily, "If I wanted to be   
nice to people I'd walk over to the sorting hat, place the tatty old rag on my head and put myself   
elsewhere. I am a Slytherin you know. People expect a certain standard of behaviour from me"  
-Draco, that was what you were trying to shake off. Now could you please stop being so obstinate   
and make a little room for change. This isn't going to work if you expect free reign to contradict   
every idea ever put into your head by anyone. There are certain truths, which, quite frankly, if you   
alienate yourself from, will be your downfall. Draco, you won't get your own way every time.   
You've had your fun playing with the nerves of your classmates but if you want to improve…-  
"Oh, look who's talking. You know you are starting to sound quite frightfully like father. 'Draco if   
you want to succeed…' Yes, we've already established that. I want to come to the crossroads   
and take the right path, I don't expect to spend the rest of my days slumming about in the dorms.   
I want to make the right decisions when I come to them though. I don't want to live my life   
starched rigid so that I can devote my time to calculate the exact moments and choices. I want to   
show emotion yes, but can you try and help me make this road a little less steep? There's only so   
much that I can take as regards leaps and I think I've about exhausted it today. Goodnight"  
With that, Draco closed the curtains around his bed, fully aware that it was in fact about 1:30.   
-Naïve child- the voice spoke from within him –You should keep your wits about you. You cannot   
shut me out. I am here to help and help I will, whether you like it or not!-  
The master had spoken. The servant obeyed, positioning himself upright against the backing   
board of the bed. A quiet rumble of chatter could be heard from outside the confines of the bed.   
No doubt Draco's classmates had been informed of the whole showing emotion saga by the two   
non-descripts and had come to get a closer look. Disappointed and hearing Draco's voice, they   
turned their attentions to who he could possibly be entertaining within the fortress structure of his   
curtains.  
"Listen to them" Draco spoke "Do you think that those…those ingrates deserve the ability to see   
inside my head? It would be my downfall. I won't smile for an audience you know, I'm not a   
portrait on a wall for all to gaze at and ask questions. If they want to gawk at some cheesy smile   
then why don't they just scurry off and harass Saint Potter, I'm sure he'd enjoy it"  
-Draco, you are giving a slightly one-sided account here, admit at least that. You enjoyed the   
release Draco. The one thing that I can't dictate for you. The one thing which gives you the power   
over this. You can control how you feel about what you portray. I didn't make you happy then   
Draco. That wasn't some picture-show for the onlookers, that was you. Now you can walk away   
from that, back to the cold dark Draco Malfoy, back to the shell of a man-   
The voice paused, just a second for effect. To Draco this seemed like an eternity. Everything that   
he had ever been taught, all the values he had ever been shown, all the rules and regulations he   
had been subjected to, were crumbling, piece by piece in his mind. Each and every one making a   
loud crash as it reached the floor.  
-Draco, you make the decision-  
  
A/N: Finally. That has to be the quickest update that I have ever done. I'm continuing to enjoy   
reading the reviews so please keep them coming. Also, please take notice as I blatantly plug   
everything else I've written : Look in my profile under "stories authored" Thanks to Citrus Scented   
for taking notice of my other work, I really appreciate your analysis of "Acrostics" 


	5. Decisions

Conflict of Self  
Chapter 5-Decisions  
Decisions, decisions, decisions. The voice was now too spookily like Lucius. Could it be? No,   
impossible. Draco was sure that even Lucius would not be sadistic enough to perform a mental   
strain of the imperius curse upon him. No. He wasn't even sure that such a curse existed, let   
alone that his father new it, so he just let his mind rest yet again. His mind and the intruder.  
-So you question my identity-  
Draco refused to answer. He wasn't going to give into this, this voice, whoever it was. Not even if   
it was of his own creation, he was not letting anything over-power him at this moment.  
-Sit there if you want. I've got all day; it will be your time that I'm wasting. Oh, and if I remember   
rightly, then you need that time to do your divination homework- the voice again using it's intense   
blend of sarcasm and sadism. If only Draco could brew that in a potion. A powerful change of   
personality. Snape had said in their first year that he could "bewitch the mind and ensnare the   
senses" so Draco doubted that that would be far beyond his ability. Hold on. Prior Incantatum one   
moment. Snape's ability? This was another powerful figure in Draco's life. He started to panic in a   
very un-Slytherin manner. Had he been given anything in the previous potions lesson? Had   
Snape grossly abused his power and given proof of concept for the ensnaring of senses? Snap   
out of it Draco. Your head of house wouldn't do that. Or would he? Draco was trying to convince   
himself of something, but his attempts were feeble and his control was slipping away. Draco   
slipped away into a sense of dreamy contemplation.  
Why couldn't everything be bliss? Why, for one moment couldn't he be Harry Potter?  
-----  
"It is time Master"  
"Excellent Wormtail. If we act quickly enough, then the boy will not have knowledge of   
what is to come until after it has hit him. Until after it is too late" The voice had an uncanny hissing   
to it. This was the voice of a parselmouth  
-----  
The boy raised his hand to his forehead. The whole of his common room turned to look. It was   
known that when this certain boy had pains around his scarred head that a certain very powerful   
dark wizard was either near or feeling in a particularly evil mood. Draco didn't know this. This   
wasn't an answer as to why Draco couldn't be Harry Potter. This was an answer as to why he   
should never in his life have held any desire to be Harry Potter.  
-----  
-Pull yourself together Draco. What on earth were you thinking? Lucius and Snape collaborative   
plots? You want to be Potter? Why you even…-  
"Shut Up!" In a scene reminiscent of his first dealings with the voice, Draco prompted the   
entire student-body of Slytherin house to turn and stare. Of course, this wasn't just a look up and   
get back to what you were doing job. This was major. Remember now, Draco was in the Dorm.   
Slytherin were in the dungeon common room. As they forced their collective way into the room,   
he could hear various confused voices.  
"Mental, absolutely mental"  
"Always thought it of him to be honest"  
"Not going to survive another day if you ask me"  
  
"Shut Up!!!" The commanding voice of Draco Malfoy broke away any question of him going soft.   
This was still the honorary head of the Slytherin dungeons. This was still the master. There was   
still the scowl.  
He had failed. Falling back onto his bed, red with embarrassment, he started to cry. First one   
tear, slowly rolling down his cheek. Then another, and another. Finally the floodgates were   
opened and Draco's face played host to a water park of emotion. He had lost it. Draco Malfoy had   
lost it in front of his entire peer group.   
He let out one last scream, which sent the remaining stragglers packing through the doors. He   
slowly pulled the comforting blankets around his cold, shamed body, fully aware of the starched   
robes still gripping onto his torso. It was done. He had regressed. Fat chance he had of finding   
himself now. He didn't even now know who his mentor was. Draco was lost, and it would be one   
epic journey to find him again.  
A/N: And I procrastinate yet more. This is going to be one epic by the time its finished. Thanks   
again for the reviews and again I blatantly plug my poetry. Oh, and I insert all disclaimer stuff   
*here* because it messes up my word count and gives me a false measure of how much I've   
written if I lob a load of legal garbage at the top. Plus, can you tell me If it would be a good idea to   
do an angsty journal from Justin Finch-Fletchley's POV. Just I don't know if I'm updating quick   
enough and if I'm not then I don't want to have three stories on the go.  
§Draconis§ 


	6. Draco Reparo

Conflict of Self  
Chapter 6-Draco Reparo  
  
Broken. Draco Malfoy was Broken. And lost if I remember rightly. The figurehead of 4th year   
Slytherin members was broken. Their figurehead would need fixing, lest they wander away.   
Draco Reparo.  
-----  
After a good night's sleep and an uninterrupted day of lessons, a stable, albeit reclusive, Draco   
Malfoy returned to the dungeons, his emotions lying somewhere south of indifference. Draco was   
broken and whoever was driving his emotions needed a new compass. He was happy to take a   
back seat in the House while he got his ideas together, but he knew that he would need to return   
swiftly if he wanted to stay on top of things. This however was not his current priority; then again,   
he wasn't quite sure what was.   
Draco "accio"ed over his best quill, a pot of ink and some parchment, and sat at the communal   
desk. The best way to recover when lost, he decided, was to use a map. He then proceeded to   
map all his problems onto the parchment before him.  
"1.Me  
2.Myself  
3.I"  
This was getting him about as far as a snowball in hell. The silence was intense and its volume   
was killing his stream of thought. Bliss. The silence was broken.  
-Lost? -  
No. That was not the way Draco wanted to take out of this mess. Nor was this the voice that   
Draco wished to hear. Thoroughly annoyed, he sat rigid in a poor attempt at faking concentration.   
The voice, he had failed to recall, was not gullible, and therefore was not about to be stopped by   
this poor, poor façade. Draco however was not helping. He did not wish to speak and so the voice   
was in desperate need of a further line of communication.  
Slowly, as if under the Imperius curse, Draco's cold arm lifted, his hands curling around the quill.   
Draco, in an attempt to fake control, moved the quill towards the inkpot. This attempt was futile.   
Draco Malfoy was not in control of his own actions. Smooth as silk, the quill moved freely across   
the paper, words forming as it went.  
"1. Draco  
2. Lucius  
3. Severus  
4. Narcissa  
5. Blaise"  
Now, Draco was not one to place blame, despite what he outwardly displayed. This was   
definitive. The voice was not a part of Draco. Still, this did leave Draco curious. Why him? Why   
his parents? Why his head of house? Most puzzling of all, Why Blaise? He had already jumped to   
the conclusion that it was Mr. Zabini who was named, but this did not lessen his confusion. What   
had he done?  
Draco felt his hand move again. His quill traced the paper with a perfectly circular shape. In the   
middle of the circle, a name was written. The circle was entwined with a snake, the emblem of   
Slytherin house. The name written on that paper was his own. Draco Malfoy. As suddenly as the   
name had appeared it was gone. The middle of the circle burst into spectacular green and silver   
flames, leaving no trace of the previous writing. The hand once more felt obliged to move. A new   
name was traced onto the paper. A new, surprising name. Blaise Zabini.   
Draco at first struggled to comprehend this symbolic gesture. Was Blaise to be his downfall? Was   
he soon to die? No. Draco's theories were all too weak. Then it struck him. The circle. The social   
circle within slytherin house. This left him in an awkward predicament. Draco felt sure that he was   
being edged sideways to allow room for someone to gain pride of place as the center of slytherin   
attention. Never in his moments of deepest, contemplating thought, had it occurred to him that   
that person would be Blaise Zabini. Blaise had always seemed to Draco to be a kind considerate   
boy, a perception which initial prompted Draco to question his placement in Slytherin house.   
Draco had however grown to admire this, as he was sure that it was honest. He had seen St   
Potter make a great show of his kindness, making him doubt his credibility, but Blaise seemed so   
Honest and…no. He was a backstabber. Once again, Draco gave his volatile hatred free reign.   
Blaise was trying to amplify Draco's instability for his personal gain. Blaise was a slytherin and a   
powerful one at that. Could he…no. Draco point blank refused too believe that a fellow student   
had the power to do this to him. But, it was another person into the mix. More fuel for the fire that   
heated the cauldron. Draco Reparo? Miscast.  
  
A/N: Sorry for the late update, I've had severe writer's block so please be a little lenient. I guess   
this is going nowhere and taking its time about it as well, so any suggestions as to how I can wrap   
this up before it puts my writing brain under cruciatus and flies out of control are welcome. 


End file.
